


The Prince of Aria

by cosmofire



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Corruption, Found Family, Gen, Genocide, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Peasant Tubbo, Pirates, Prince TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Revolution, Time Skips, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmofire/pseuds/cosmofire
Summary: Tommy looked back at the peasant boy, who was struggling to keep up. “What’s your name by the way?”“Toby!” The boy choked out, before falling flat on his face after tripping over an exposed root. “What the shit,” he muttered into the earth.Tommy slowed down to a jog and rounded back to where Toby had fallen over. Offering him a hand, Tommy snickered, “did you say… Tubby?"--Tommy is the prince of Aria: a magnificent kingdom ruled by his father burrowed within sloping moors and dense woodlands. Ever since he could talk, Tommy knew that he was destined to be the ruler of his father's land. But times change; as do people, morals, methods, and lifestyles. And Tommy is faced with a difficult situation.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 20
Kudos: 71





	1. Comrade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ricethericey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricethericey/gifts).



> this work is for my friend rice! xey're an incredible artist, and xey drew my pfp :] please go send xem some love! click [here](https://twitter.com/ricethericey?s=20) for xeir twitter!
> 
>   
> quick disclaimers!!
> 
> \- there will be inaccuracies! this story is not strictly medieval, it's some sort of fusion between medieval and fantasy with modern aspects (traditional views? what's that?)  
> \- these characters are _based_ on the ccs. the ideas/beliefs implied in this work are not accurate and have no reflection on the real person - it is purely a work of fiction and for plot purposes only.  
> \- this is my first multi chapter work! i hope you enjoy it <33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy was nine when he met Tubbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Pv1gyggz6RJANd5lyGQKg)
> 
> songs for this section:
> 
> psalm 24: stroudwater (from “instruments of darkness”) - eurielle  
> squaric - martin gauffin  
> meet me in the woods - lord huron

It was a sunny and mild afternoon, and Tommy had just escaped the grasps of his parents through the back doors of the kitchens. He ignored the various shouts and cries from cooks and maids as he barged past them, snatching up a freshly baked scone from a tray. A voice laced with humour boomed from behind him. “You better return that scone right now, young man.”

Tommy spun around on his heels with a shit-eating grin. Leaning on the door, he clutched a stone sword in his right hand and held up the scone in his left like a trophy. “I’ll return it later, Gwen,” he sniggered, “once I’ve been to the toilet!” Knowing what was coming, he sent the kitchens a quick wink and ducked away from the doorframe and into the gardens. The heavy wooden door slammed on its hinges as a large soup ladle made contact where the young prince once stood.

Sprinting away from the castle; Tommy happily munched on the warm cake, swinging his sword from side to side, slicing through the waist-high grass. He ran until he was sure that he was out of sight from the palace, ducking behind a tall hedge at the bottom of the garden and slipping through a hole in the brick wall that was hidden by vines. As he entered the new field, a cheery voice called from his left. “Hullo, Tommy, sir! What can I do ya for?”

Tommy faced the red-haired man with a smile and brought his index finger to his lips. “Pretend I’m not here, Big P.”

‘Big P’ - otherwise better known as Percy - was the palace’s gardener. He was born and raised on the palace grounds, his family has been loyal gardeners to the Maxwells for decades. Percy was a welcome familiar face in the kingdom and had become Tommy’s guide and closest confidant. His eyes went wide, covering his eyes with his forearm and turning away slightly. “Ah, I must’a been seein’ things. Master Tommy should be in ‘is lessons right now!”

Percy was right - Tommy _should_ be sat in the library opposite Ms Pollard, learning about mathematics. He groaned, tilting his head back; “school is for losers.”

Percy ignored him and started wandering away from Tommy, swinging his shovel back to lean it against his shoulder. “I _wonder_ what ‘e’s learnin’ about?” he spoke quizzically and with emphasis, scratching his bearded chin dramatically.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised. “Oh. Oh yeah,” he gasped, “I’m not supposed to be here!” With that, Tommy took off deeper into the gardens and towards the lake. 

Percy chuckled with endearment as he watched the boy dash through the undergrowth, swerving between the dense trees and bushes. He shook his head and turned back to the hyacinths he was tending to before the prince barged into the clearing.

Tommy ducked and dived through the trees and bushes, whacking some with his sword on the way past. “Take that!” He shouted with each swing, “and that!” Galloping up to a fallen tree, he planted his left hand on the log, swung his legs over and landed perfectly with a thud. He looked around stealthily - he was sure that no one would be this deep into the gardens, but he had to double-check. Reaching down underneath the fallen tree, Tommy clawed around for his hidden belongings.

_SNAP_

Tommy retracted his hand from the cubbyhole as if he had been burnt and shot up to survey his surroundings with panic. Clutching his sword and bringing out in front of him, he got into a fighting stance.

Someone else was here.

“Who’s there?” He called out, trying to mask his nerves with a brave tone. It didn’t really work. “Show yourself!” He tried again, blowing a blond tuft of hair out of his eyes. He had somehow successfully avoided getting his haircut the week prior. Ms Pollard was never kind with the scissors, but perhaps his hair _was_ getting a little too long for his comfort.

Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw a bush rustle. He whipped around to face the bush and approached it slowly… carefully… methodically… 

Suddenly Tommy was flying headfirst over the bush and landed on his rear with a thud. Slightly dazed, he blinked a few times before attempting to rise to his feet. However, that action was cut short when a net landed on top of him - sending Tommy to the grassy floor for the second time. He tried to make sense of what had happened to him, lifting his left arm to inspect the netted trap. With a frown he muttered to himself; “What the-?” 

Tommy’s ears perked at the sound of bright bubbling laughter coming from his right and his confused eyes met with a pair of clear blue ones. Breaking eye contact, Tommy shook his head in attempts to get the net off of him. The blue-eyed boy only laughed harder.

“You-you looked so f-funny when you flew o-ver that bush!” The boy choked out, clutching his stomach and doubling over. Matted brown hair flopped over the boy’s forehead, grazing his eyebrows. He was dressed in lowly clothing; a scraggy green v-neck top hung loosely over his slim frame, a thick patterned belt secured his top and black bottoms to his body, and on his feet were a pair of worn leather boots. “I’m so sorry, Mister. You see, I’m out hunting for food and I-”

Tommy held up his hand from beneath the net to silence the peasant boy. Taking out his trusty dagger, Tommy started cutting through the net to free himself - much to the boy’s distress.

“That cost my mother three pieces of silver…” he whispered sadly as he kicked around the dirt beneath his rotting boots. Tommy ignored him and rose to his feet, pocketing the dagger into a sheath tied to his belt. Despite being only nine years of age, he easily towered over the boy. He bent down to pick up his discarded sword.

“What are you doing out here?”

“As I said; hunting for food,” the boy spoke cautiously, “look, I’m really sorry you got caught in my trap! It was a mistake-”

“Do you know that you’re on palace grounds?”

The boy spluttered, his cheeks flamed red. “What? I-I- No!” The scrawny boy’s eyes landed on the crest printed on Tommy’s tunic. His eyes went wide, his hand shot up to cover his mouth. “Your highness- I’m so sorry! I will leave right now. Gods, I am so sorry, my Lord! Please, forgive me!”

Tommy couldn’t help but laugh at the peasant’s ramblings. He clutched his stomach just like the other boy did a few minutes prior, and leaned on his sword to keep balance.

“Why are you _laughing_?” The boy cried exasperatedly, “I could lose my head for this!”

Tommy wiped a tear from underneath his eye, still chuckling. “Oh, shut up. I’m not gonna snitch.”

The brown-haired boy frowned at the prince, “why’s that, my Lord?”

“Okay. First things first, if this,” Tommy gestured between the two of them, “is gonna work? Don’t address me like that. I find it weird. And-”

The boy’s stomach grumbled right on cue. He sent Tommy a sheepish grin.

“-Secondly, you said you were hunting for food,” Tommy grinned, slipping his sword into a larger sheath tied to his belt. “Then let’s get you some food!”

The boy was suddenly whisked away by the prince before he could say anything, and they were running back through the trees towards the gardener’s cabin. Tommy looked back at the peasant boy, who was struggling to keep up. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Toby!” The boy choked out, before falling flat on his face after tripping over an exposed root. “What the shit,” he muttered into the earth.

Tommy slowed down to a jog and rounded back to where Toby had fallen over. Offering him a hand, Tommy snickered, “did you say… Tubby?”

Toby scoffed and spat out the soil in his mouth and took Tommy’s hand, hauling himself back up to his feet. “Tubby? No, I said Toby.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, “Tubby sounds cooler.”

“Tubby sounds babyish,” Toby shot back.

Tommy thought for a moment, before extending his arm out to the peasant boy.

“Nice to meet you, Tubbo. I’m Tommy.”

Tubbo looked at the prince’s arm like it was horse dung for a brief moment, before sighing and meeting it with his own. “Well, it seems like I don’t have much of a choice.” 

Tommy smirked, turning around to walk towards the palace kitchens. He thought back to the stolen armour stand that was stashed away under the fallen tree, and his plans to practice his combat skills that afternoon. Those plans could wait.

“Not at all, my friend.”

—+—

After that day, the King and Queen often found Tommy’s bedroom empty - gusts of wind blowing in through the open window, sending unfinished homework flying. The King had not been pleased about the prince’s choice of friend, and often belittled him for it. The Queen sometimes stepped in to comfort her husband, arguing that Tommy is his own person and that they should trust his judge of character. The King was not persuaded, but reluctantly eased off the boy.

“ _‘Son, there are far better young men like you to be allies with. As a prince, it is your duty to establish strong bonds to ensure that the kingdom stays prosperous,’_ ” Tommy mocked in a deep voice, puffing out his chest and moving his arms about in an authoritative manner. “I don’t even know what half of those words mean!”

Tubbo let out a small chuckle. “I mean, I can see where he’s coming from,” he said nervously, picking at his fraying tunic. “There are better boys to be friends with- like the sons of Earls, sons of Knights… not a poor peasant boy like me.”

The two boys were wandering down the garden towards the gardener’s hut. They wanted to drop in to greet the gardener before going off deeper into the forest to practice sword-fighting and combat. Tommy was supposed to meet Tubbo earlier, but he had lessons so he had attempted to escape the grasp of Ms Pollard by acting sick. Unfortunately, her eagle eyes saw through his facade and had dragged him down the cascading velvet stairs to the library, muttering profanities at the prince and complaints about having to deal with him for a living.

Tommy just didn’t like maths. Or school, for that matter.

“Those kids have no character, Tubbo,” Tommy deadpanned, shooting him a look. “It’s just all titles and power. I want to be friends with cool people, like you. Not some rich boy who gets everything handed to him for nothing.”

They rounded the thick hedge and Tommy ducked through the hole that led to Percy. Tubbo hesitated, mulling over Tommy’s words. After a moment, he followed his friend through the hole and appeared on the other side, suddenly surrounded by thick towering trees.

“Tommy, you’re the prince. You basically get everything handed to you.”

The prince frowned. “And that’s why I’m gonna do everything I can to earn power and titles myself,” he spoke confidently, walking away from Tubbo and towards the gardener’s hut.

The smaller boy followed. “Maybe you should start with _actually_ going to your lessons.”

“I just don’t like maths.”

“ _Tommy…_ ”

“Ugh. Fine,” the prince groaned, sneaking a playful smile back at Tubbo, who rolled his eyes.

Together they walked a little way down the footpath towards a thatched roof hut buried within spruce trees; lush bushes and a hundred different flowers ranging from ghost orchids to hyacinths were surrounding the humble hut, creating an _almost_ magical atmosphere. Just outside the front door was a wooden wheelbarrow filled with grubby tulip bulbs - ready to be planted - as well as a bucket of gardening tools and an empty watering can. To the left of the property was a looming pile of weeds and dead grass due to be incinerated later that day. Tommy looked up to the smoking chimney and smiled.

“He’s home.”

As though Percy had heard his cue, the jolly man burst open the front door - arms wide and welcoming. “My boys! Come in, come in!” He beckoned at them, stepping to one side to allow the boys to step into the warm home.

Tommy strolled into the centre of the hut and was met with the comforting sound of a crackling fire and the delicious smell of rabbit stew. He turned to Percy with a worried look, “we’re not interrupting your supper are we, Big P?”

The gardener chuckled, softly closing the door after Tubbo stepped into the house, and walked to the fireplace. “Nah, don’t ya worry, young lad,” he smiled gently and lifted the lid of the pot on the make-shift stove over the fire. Grabbing a large ladle from the stone in front of the fireplace, he gave the stew a stir. Three clockwise and two anti-clockwise - just how his mother had taught him as a boy. “Only been cookin’ for about 10 minutes. Won’t be done for another hour.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay good, didn’t want to interrupt you eating.”

“What you two down ‘ere for anyways?” Percy questioned, placing the ladle back on the stone and turning back to the boys.

Tubbo had been admiring the red-haired man’s workshop table, which had various sets of tools, pots, and seeds stashed away in an organised mess. “Just came to say hi,” the boy chirped. “Then we’re gonna go practice combat for Tommy.”

“I see, I see,” Percy hummed. He sat facing away from the fire on a bench, and patted the space next to him for Tommy to join - the prince happily obliged. “How is that going for ya, kid? Gettin’ much practice with the knights?”

Tommy huffed, crossing his ankles and tucking his shiny leather boots underneath the bench. “They’re all full of themselves.”

“Well they do know what they’re doin’ - bein’ experts n’ all.”

“I’d much rather train with Tubbo.”

Upon hearing his name, Tubbo spun around and walked up to the two sitting on the bench. He let out a small laugh and crossed his arms, “I’m not good at combat, Tommy.”

Tommy met Tubbo’s gentle eyes with a smile. “But you’re agile, which helps me work on my stamina and agility.”

Percy hummed in agreement; “That _is_ true…”

Tommy flickered his gaze to the gardener beside him, eyebrows raised. “What do you know about combat, Big P?”

“My family ain’t just been gardeners, sire,” Percy smirked, tapping his nose. “My father taught me a thing or two when I was yer age.”

The ginger man hauled himself from the bench and walked past the ladder that led to his bedroom, underneath the canopy and into the dim area of his home. Tubbo took Percy’s place on the bench and sent Tommy a questioning glance. Tommy shrugged his shoulders - he trusted Percy, and knew that whatever the man was about to show them would be of help in some way or another.

“Now, I’m not entirely sure I should be showin’ you this since yer both so young,” Percy’s gruff voice called out. “But better now than never, right?” 

He then stepped back into the light with a shape in his hands - a solid circle of straw - and a wide smile gracing his grubby face. “Ta-da!” 

The boys stared at him and a beat passed.

“Percy, what the shit is that.”

Tubbo giggled behind his thin shirt sleeve.

Percy frowned at the prince, “where did ya learn that kind of language from?” Tommy opened his mouth to respond, but the gardener held up a hand. “I don’t wanna know. Movin’ on! Follow me, lads.” He strolled out of the front door, taking the straw shape with him. The boys quickly followed in his footsteps, oozing with anticipation and excitement.

“Tubbo, would ya mind picking up the hammer and a nail from the wheelbarrow?” Percy asked, briefly facing the boy and pointing in the direction of the wheelbarrow. Tubbo complied, and rooted around for the requested tools before pulling them out and chasing after the other two down the footpath that led further into the forest.

Percy led the boys to a nearby clearing that Tommy had never noticed before - perhaps because he always sprinted through the trees towards the hiding area for his equipment. 

Still confused about exactly _what_ Percy was planning on showing them, they stood at the edge of the clearing as the older man approached a thick oak tree that stood in solitude amongst the spruces.Turning back towards the boys, he called for Tubbo to bring the hammer and nail that he had picked up from the wheelbarrow. Tommy watched as Percy instructed the brunet to hold the straw shape flat against the tree as he struck a nail into it - pinning it to the oak.

Clapping the smaller boy on the back, the gardener walked into the centre of the clearing and beckoned Tommy to join him. As he approached, Percy used his leather boot to dig out a line in the soil. 

“Don’t you boys go snitchin’ on me now,” he joked, pulling Tubbo to stand beside him on the side of the line furthest away from the straw shape pinned against the oak. “Can’t be gettin’ on the King’s bad side, can we? So keep yer mouths shut.”

The boys nodded in agreement. Despite Percy’s light tone, it was clear that he was being serious. “Right!” He clapped his hands with enthusiasm, “now, about five metres away on that fine oak tree is a target.” 

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “What’s it for?”

“Oh! Are we doing archery?” Tubbo asked excitedly, bouncing on his heels.

Percy raised his finger and opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated. “Uh- no.” Tubbo’s shoulders sagged. 

“But I’d argue that it’s better than archery…” Percy continued, opening up a sheath attached to his waist band and producing a small but lethal-looking dagger. “This is a-”

“Scary butter knife!” Tubbo cried, a look of fear overcame his small features. 

Percy let out a bellowing laugh, which had instantly made Tubbo feel less fearful of the weapon. “I’d be concerned if ya were usin’ this as a butter knife, kiddo!” He chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “This- this is a throwin’ knife.”

“It looks like a dagger, though. Just… small,” Tommy piped up, stepping forward to inspect the knife further. He had only ever worked with swords, axes and daggers - never something like this. Even at his early age, he had been introduced to combat by his father. The King had insisted that Tommy must become the ‘greatest knight that the kingdom had ever seen’ - hence why he had been training with the Knights. He didn’t like working with the Knights- but this? this new weapon excited him. He was desperate to learn its secrets, antics, and techniques. And Tommy was thrilled that Percy would be the one teaching him.

Percy smiled at the prince and carefully handed the weapon to him, ensuring that the boy would not injure himself by accident. “It’s somewhat like a dagger, but more agile and light. Easier to throw and navigate. Swift little things. Buggers too, if ya get caught on the other end of one.” He sent Tubbo a comical look, making the boy giggle, “trust me - been there, done that.”

Tommy shifted the knife between his two hands, adjusting to its weight. “So,” he grinned at Percy. “Are you gonna teach us?”

Percy returned the smile, and retrieved a second throwing knife from a concealed holster strapped to his thigh, handing it to Tubbo. The brunet gawped at him. “Since when did you have _that_ there?”

“Always gotta be prepared,” Percy winked. “Never know who’s lurkin’ in the trees, so keep yer wits about ya.” 

“ ‘Who’ ?” Tubbo repeated hesitantly. Percy didn’t answer and stepped in front of the two boys.

“The most important thing about throwin’ a knife is the target,” the man spoke clearly. “The knife can be used from short- and long distance - ya need to determine which would be more effective. While a standard knife _would_ be more effective in hand-to-hand combat, ya must learn to adapt to yer surroundins’ and opponents. A throwin’ knife is perfect for adaptin’.”

The young boys were listening with gripped interest, but Tubbo seemed very wary of the weapon that he was clutching. Percy noticed his slight discomfort, “aye Tubbo, ya want me to take that knife for the time bein’?”

The boy shook his head. “No, it’s fine! I just need to get used to it.”

Percy nodded and continued. “With a target, ya have to consider the distance between _it_ and you. This is because when yer throw a knife, the knife spins. Knife spin can greatly affect whether it hits the target successfully. So, the second most important thing is the _spin_.” 

Percy stepped forward and plucked the weapon from Tommy’s hands - much to his distaste - and held up the knife to the boys. “As ya have probably noticed, the blade end of the knife is much heavier than the handle. This makes it easier to hold and throw. The weight also helps the knife spin, and deals good amounts o’ damage to the target.”

“Now, onto actually throwin’ the knife… The way ya release the knife affects how the throw is gonna turn out. You don’t wanna flick yer wrist, ‘cause that makes it spin too much. Instead, you wanna let it leave yer hand smoothly, at a forty-five degree angle-” Percy curses under his breath as a realisation hits him. “Do ya both know about angles yet?”

Tommy sent the gardener a sheepish look, fiddling with his hands.

“I don’t go to school,” Tubbo spoke with a bit _too much_ chirpiness. “But Tommy does!”

Tommy chuckled and scratched his temple, “yeah… about that…”

“He ditches school all the— HEY!” Tubbo suddenly cried, clutching his left arm in pain. Tommy sent him a glare.

“ _Shut up, idiot_ ,” he muttered under his breath.

Percy raised his eyebrows comically. “So do ya know about angles, Tommy?”

The prince sighed and looked to the ground. “I probably missed that lesson…”

“No matter,” Percy chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Put yer dominant hand out in front of ya- I’ll just show ya instead.” He pocketed the throwing knife and moved to adjust the boys’ arms so they were held at a 45-degree angle. “This is where ya wanna release the knife when ya throw it. So, let’s have a go at the throwin’ motion- _not_ that actual throwin’ yet. Here’s yer knife back, Tommy- NO! _Don’t_ throw it!”

Percy had the two boys practice the throwing technique for a while before he was able to trust them enough (mostly Tommy) to attempt throwing their knives. As expected, Tommy was remarkably brilliant - as he was with most things combat-related. Again, this was mostly down to his early exposure to weapons and techniques, thanks to his father. Percy wondered whether the King had Tommy trained from a young age because he wanted to ensure the prince was equipped, or whether he had plans to use his son as a weapon.

He dreaded to think that it could be the latter. 

On the other hand; where Tommy excelled, Tubbo lagged behind. The smaller boy had always struggled to handle more aggressive skills - perhaps because he hadn’t been brought up in an environment that had suited it. However, Tubbo had always been rather skilled with trapping. After his father passed away when Tubbo was six, his remaining family had relied on him to bring food home. It wasn’t particularly responsible of his mother to hurl such expectations onto her eldest son, but Tubbo had prevailed - as he always tended to do. 

In his spare time - or whenever his family got hungry - he taught himself how to trap animals. He had started off with small mammals such as mice and rats- and when his family could no longer survive on the little meat that those had offered, he advanced onto rabbits, and sometimes muntjac deer if he got _really_ lucky.

Percy scrunched his red eyebrows together in thought as he watched the smaller boy struggle to hit the target for the fifteenth time. He didn’t know too much about trapping, but perhaps he could practise by himself before helping Tubbo increase his trapping skills.

He tipped his head back to look at the sky, and realised that it had been well over an hour since they had arrived. He clapped his hands together, the noise echoed through the trees. “Right lads, I think that’s enough for today!”

Tommy let out a groan of protest, “but I’m doing so well!”

“That’s great, Tommy. Proud of ya!” Percy replied with a gentle smile, “But I don’t want to get in trouble with yer parents.” His large hand pressed against Tommy’s back, encouraging the boy to turn away from the target and back towards the hut. Tubbo hadn’t moved, and was gazing at the target.

He’d get it one day.

“You too, Tubbo!” Percy called over his shoulder, still pushing Tommy to use his legs. “The target can stay there and ya can keep the knives I gave ya. Whenever ya find time, yer more than welcome to come back here to practice.”

Tubbo pocketed his knife in the waistband of his frayed trousers and skipped after the other two. As he reached the edge of the clearing, he cast one last look towards the target.

_One day._

Over the next few months, Percy regularly found a determined brown-haired boy stood behind the same line of dirt (which had to be redrawn several times due to the weather) facing the now-wooden target, with the same throwing knife in his clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter pog! things will start to pick up in the plotline soon i promise!!
> 
> you can follow me on twitter [here!](https://twitter.com/twcosmofire)
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are very appreciated! i hope you enjoyed this read <3


	2. Latibule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy was thirteen when he got accepted into the Knight Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Pv1gyggz6RJANd5lyGQKg)
> 
> songs for this section:
> 
> learning to fly - hills x hills  
> into a fantasy (from “how to train your dragon 2”) - alexander rybak

He was tested for his strength, courage, stamina, and bravery through various challenges and duels that were designed to push trainees to their limits. Despite Tommy’s insistence on the fact that the challenges would be easy, he wouldn’t tell anyone that he had to have some time to himself in his tent in between tasks.

After the ceremony, in which Tommy had to make a blood oath to the King, he and Tubbo were wandering through the forest at the bottom of the palace gardens. The sun was still high in the sky, blue stretched on for miles - not a cloud in sight. Despite Tommy’s injured hand, he still swung from tree branches that hung low over the footpath. “I actually can’t believe I made it in, Tubbo!” He grinned, an excited laugh escaping his lips, “I thought Dad wouldn’t let me in after last week.”

Last week Tommy had - against better judgement - decided that practising for his test of knighthood was more worthwhile than meeting with Ms Pollard for poetry lessons in the library. His father hadn’t been pleased when the grouchy old woman appeared outside his quarters to complain about the prince’s absence. 

Tommy’s legs still hurt from the large amount of miles that his father had him run. But he was grateful for the excuse to exercise. _“In a way, it was still practice,”_ he had whispered to Tubbo while the King’s back was turned.

Tubbo smiled at the prince. He was proud of his friend, it was what the boy deserved for being the best swordsman his age. All those hours he had spent being Tommy’s practice dummy had proved worthwhile, and he had even learnt some skills himself. “You were gonna get in either way, Tommy. You’re the prince.”

They strolled out of the thick trees and towards the cliff edge, Tommy jumped onto a rock that overhung the edge, and turned around to offer Tubbo a hand up. “Yeah, I know,” he hauled the smaller boy up to stand next to him, “but it means more when I get in solely on my skills alone.” 

Tubbo hummed in agreement and sank down to sit on the rock, letting his legs swing out over the edge. Tommy joined him, looking out over the orange and yellow sea of withering leaves. It was the boy’s favourite spot to sit and do absolutely nothing - they often escaped here after things got a little hectic in the main parts of the kingdom. They could waste hours here. 

The valley changed with the seasons; in the winter gentle snowflakes would dust the valley - turning it from a barren landscape into an untouched canvas of serenity. In the spring; the rain would fall, the rainbows would form, and they could’ve sworn that they were at the edge of the world. In the summer; the birds would soar over the blooming spruces below them, the sun would hit them _just_ right and they’d think; _“this is the life we’re meant to live.”_ And in the autumn, well, it was beautiful. With the passing of nature’s life, came immense beauty that Tommy was still unable to perceive. He could never begin to fathom _why_ death brought about such change that was almost… _positive_? Tommy’s past and future had always been set in stone, he knew his fate and that it wouldn’t change - not that he wanted to stride down a separate path. Change could be damaging, unpredictable, unnerving.

He didn’t think he was a fan of change.

Tommy lifted an outstretched hand to carefully trace the peaks of mountains in the distance. “I can’t wait to rule over this land - to call it my own. To serve and protect my people: The King of Aria.”

Tubbo glanced at his prince, chest filling with pride. “Well you’ve got a few more years before you even get that opportunity.” 

Tommy met his gaze and chuckled, retracting his outstretched hand to lightly punch Tubbo’s shoulder. “I reckon dad’s got at least ten years left in him.”

Tubbo gasped, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Don’t wish the King’s life away like that, Tommy!” He cried in mockery, before whispering, “you’ll jinx it.”

“You know that’s bollocks, Tubbo,” Tommy laughed, fond eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well, you never know,” Tubbo shrugged, looking back out to the rolling valley again. A comfortable silence enveloped the boys, allowing them to enjoy the gentle hues of ruby and gold from their position on the cliff edge. The atmosphere surrounding them was warm and kind. Tubbo usually found that it was like this when being around Tommy. 

Despite being worryingly spontaneous and somewhat brash at the _worst_ times, Tommy had proven to be an extremely loyal friend, and Tubbo was very grateful to have met such a boy. The Prince often offered to feed Tubbo’s family and they would decline such gracious offers. However, during the harsh winters when food was scarce, Tommy would demand that they accept his offers, even if it was just one whole chicken and a basket of vegetables. 

Tommy knew that they wouldn’t accept a whole banquet, no matter how much he wanted to send one to their crooked doorstep. Nonetheless, he still did what he could to support the family and, for that, Tubbo was forever thankful.

“You’d be my right-hand man, y’know,” Tommy spoke quietly, without looking away from the flock of starlings that danced across the skyline. 

A sad smile found its way to Tubbo’s lips. “Maybe.”

“ _Maybe_?”

Tubbo sighed, bringing his knees up and hugging them to his chest. “I wanna see the world, Tommy,” he spoke softly, afraid to upset the other. “I don’t wanna stay in one place. I gotta move with the wind.”

Tommy didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes were still focused on the flock of birds ahead of him. Tubbo reached out a hesitant hand, “Tommy, I-”

Tommy turned to face the smaller boy, and sent him a watery smile. “Don’t worry about it, big man! We all have our own dreams.” He blinked, and altered his smile into a smug grin, “I guess I’m just being selfish because I want you all to myself.”

Tubbo laughed, clutching the rock beneath him for support, “You’re so clingy!” 

Tommy launched at Tubbo.

“How dare you call me- ME- clingy? You’re the clingy one, _Tubbster_. You’re so short and clingy it makes me _SICK_! I actually want to gauge my fucking eyes out and chuck them down a well every time I see you. Oh, look at you! You’re so fucking tiny and weak and I am so much better than you! You think you can overpower me, _bitch_? I think the fuck not, you weasel-looking prick!”

Tubbo couldn’t help but laugh even more. Tommy was making jabs at his sides and stomach that he found more ticklish than harmful. “Okay, okay! Stop! Please- NO! Stop!” He choked out in between guffaws of bubbling laughter.

“Yeah,” Tommy drawled out, nodding his head in victory. “That’s what I thought. Bitch— OW! What the _fuck_ , man?” 

Tubbo stifled a chuckle behind a grubby hand, watching as the prince rubbed a hand against his numb arm. “You deserved it.” 

He looked back out to the valley, and spotted a small waterfall that the two boys had visited a few times during the summer. He pointed it out, and faced Tommy with a grin. “Race ya.” In a flash, the brown-haired boy was up and off, darting back through the spruce trees to find the footpath that led to the waterfall’s edge. 

Tommy barely reacted; slightly confused and attempting to process what had just happened, before he caught up to speed. “Shit.” He shot up from the cliff’s edge and raced after his best friend, his howls of laughter echoed throughout the forest.

Ever since the boys had both turned eleven, Percy had them doing weekly training. The training varied from week to week; sometimes it was hand-to-hand combat, running, hunting or trapping, knife throwing (Tommy’s favourite), or learning how to survive in the wild. It depended on what Percy felt like doing. The boys never complained.

So with Tubbo having a bigger lead on Tommy, it was more difficult to catch up with him than it used to be. But - as competitive as always - Tommy forced his legs to work faster, matching the swing of his arms in time with the pounding of his leather boots on the soft dirt beneath him. The path to the waterfall was not a clear one; there were many stray tree branches and odd bushes that breached the sides of the trail, waiting for someone to stumble through. 

Pushing through the blocked path, Tubbo misjudged his size and instead of dodging a protruding pine branch, the shoulder of his tunic hooked onto it. It meant that, as he ran past, he pulled the branch with him and stumbled. Tommy let out a laugh at Tubbo’s misfortune, only to have the same branch fling back into his face a moment later when Tubbo unhooked himself. 

Tommy stilled and glared at Tubbo, who had adopted a slight smirk at the sight. Green pine needles embedded in the fluffy blond mess on his head and _somehow_ made their way into his mouth. Tommy spat them out onto the floor in disgust, and dug out the ones that got stuck in between his teeth with his fingers.

Tubbo erupted into bubbling laughter, placing his hand on a nearby tree to support his weight.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Tommy scowled playfully at Tubbo. “You think it’s funny, _bitch_?”

“Yeah, actually,” Tubbo snorted into his palm. “I do.”

With no hesitation, Tommy had slid his sword out of the sheath fitted to his belt and was charging towards Tubbo. 

Tubbo squeaked in fear, before spinning on his heel and racing through the trees ahead of them. For dramatic effect, Tubbo flicked his feet backwards while running to kick dirt up in Tommy’s face.

“You think that’s gonna work, huh?” Tommy chuckled from behind him, his voice was worryingly close. “I can see through dirt, bitch. I eat carrots!”

“They help you see in the dark, moron! Not dirt!” Tubbo choked out, slightly stumbling over his feet in panic. The path had taken them closer to the edge of the cliff, and the trees suddenly thinned out - the entrance to the waterfall was visible and fast approaching. Tubbo felt a hand paw at the neck of his tunic, but pushed himself to his limit to escape Tommy’s grasps. Worn boots beat the ground, his heart pounded, and the wind whistled through his brown hair as he sprinted through the trees with the prince on his tail.

Tommy let out another gleeful laugh, sword still in hand but no intention to use it. He reached out his hand again to clutch onto Tubbo’s shirt, when a masked figure rolled out onto the path before them, causing Tubbo to skid to a halt. Tommy crashed into his back with a grunt.

“Tommy…” Tubbo gulped. “We’ve got trouble.”

Tommy blinked a few times to re-orientate himself after the collision, and peered over Tubbo’s shoulder to assess the ‘ _trouble_ ’. His gaze was met with a masked figure standing in the middle of the pathway a few metres in front of them. Slowly but surely, several other figures of the same ilk appeared from the treeline on either side of the path - all armed with weapons varying from swords to maces. They formed a group, standing behind the figure that had rolled out in front of the two boys. 

There were about six ninja-looking figures. Not an inch of skin on show, excluding a thin strip where their eyes were. Tommy had never seen them before, but he had good reason to believe that they were not friendly. At all.

“Tubbo,” he whispered, keeping an eye on the ‘main’ ninja. “This might be a problem.”

“You think?” Tubbo retorted. He planted his feet firmer into the ground to give himself more stability and strength. The Main Ninja noticed the movement, and the grip on their axe tightened.

Tommy sheathed his sword and stepped around Tubbo.

“ _What_ are you doing?” The smaller boy seethed, his hand hovered over the axe attached to his belt. He was hesitant to use the weapon, but he got the horrible feeling that he would have to.

“Talking to them.”

“What the _fuck_?”

Tommy waved at the group of masked figures, shooting them a quick grin. “Hey fellas! How can we help you?”

He was met with silence. The figures stared back at him. 

Tommy chuckled nervously. “Haha- very funny guys! You know a conversation _does_ require two participating parties to work effectively?” 

He took a step forward. The figures bent their knees slightly, as if readying an attack. Tommy wasn’t stupid, he knew when a situation was dangerous… usually after the time slot given for him to escape had vanished. 

He pointed at the Main Ninja, “I think I’m gonna call you Simon. Suits you.”

‘Simon’ locked his ankles into place, shifting dirt around his foot, and the other ninjas quickly followed suit like a trained pack of wolves. Simon’s eyes narrowed onto Tommy. 

“Well, _shit._ ” Tommy swiftly pulled out his sword to block an incoming attack from Simon. “TUBBO! RUN!” He screamed, the axe ricocheted off the sword, sending vibrations through Tommy’s weapon and into his hands, causing him to stumble backwards slightly.

This guy was _strong_.

Tommy pushed back against Simon’s weapon, swiping his sword to the right of him in an attempt to escape the lock that Simon had him in. The tip of his sword brushed past his face, but Simon bent backwards _just_ in time to avoid the swing. 

With his sword temporarily out of action; Tommy forced his left leg into Simon’s stomach, sending him stumbling back into the other ninjas - eliminating at least three ninjas for the time being. Out of the corner of his eye, two other figures were fast approaching - one with a sword and the other with a mace. 

Tommy frowned. He never liked maces.

“Lads, you do know that I _am_ thirteen - I’m just a kid,” he spoke casually. As expected, he did not receive an answer but instead, the sound and force of a sword crashing down on his own. 

He grunted under the attack, the hilt of his sword dug painfully into the wound on his right palm, but he pushed back with determination - extending his knees to allow him to push to his full height. The eyes of his foe widened slightly at the surprising height of the young prince, but narrowed again when Tommy lost his footing.

Before he crashed down into the dirt, Tommy was able to grab a throwing knife from a sheath on his belt and launch it at the Mace Man - effortlessly pinning their wrist to a tree behind them and causing them to grunt in pain.

Tommy scoffed from the floor while avoiding attacks from the Sword Man. “Gods, do you guys even make _any_ noise? Just scream! You just got your fucking wrist stabbed, weirdo!” 

The Sword Man faltered at Tommy’s outburst, and, spying an opening, Tommy punched the Sword Man, enabling him to roll out from underneath his foe and drive his sword into his back.

He looked up to Mace Man, whose wrist was dripping with blood. Although he was masked, Tommy could make out the pained expression in the figure’s eyes. Yanking his sword from the Sword Man’s body, he pointed the crimson blade at Mace Man. “You’re on drugs, aren’t you? I want what you’re having.” 

The figure didn’t answer, and Tommy approached him to take the mace from his grasp. “You won’t be needing this.”

Tommy turned on his heel to deal with the other four ninjas that he had yet to face, but was met with the sight of two figures lying in pools of blood, and Tubbo fighting off the other two.

Perhaps he should help out.

Without hesitation, he jumped into the fight and blocked an attack aimed at Tubbo with his blade. “I thought I told you to run.”

“I’m not incapable, Tommy.” Tubbo grunted in response, jumping back from an attack and then swinging his axe over his shoulder to strike his foe. The hit landed; the axe wedged in the base of the figure’s neck and cut through the cloth that covered them, blood spurted from the wound as the figure dropped to their knees.

Tubbo grimaced before looking around for Tommy.

Tommy’s foe was Simon, whom he had winded a few minutes prior, and he was definitely looking for revenge. Both were agile, and dodged each other's attacks with ease. Tommy had gone in with both a sword and mace, but decided that the mace was useless to him so he threw it to the side - narrowly missing Tubbo’s feet.

Tubbo watched as the two fighters danced around each other, trading blows and exchanging malicious glances. And, although Tommy would like to _think_ that he was a good fighter, he certainly wasn’t up to the standard of an adult. So when Tommy started to lose balance, and received more hits than those he gave, Tubbo decided to step in.

“Tommy! I—”

He was interrupted by a shrill cry and a small figure dropping down from above. The figure landed behind Simon, and was in a position to be able to swipe a leg underneath him - knocking him off his feet and sending him to the floor. Before Tommy could react, the new figure swiftly slashed Simon’s throat with a dagger and peered up at the prince with a grin.

“Hi, Tommy!”

“Aspen, what the hell are you doing here?” Tommy groaned, wiping a hand over his face.

Aspen was Tommy’ age, and the daughter of a nobleman. She had known Tommy for almost her entire life and regularly attended knight training; her father hadn’t encouraged it, but Aspen was adamant on becoming the honorary knight of her generation.

Aspen sent Tommy a cheeky smile, loose braided hair wafted in the breeze, covering her face slightly. “I was just out practicing stuff,” she chirped, lifting a slender finger to pull the blonde strands of hair away from her face.

Tubbo stepped forward, attaching his axe back onto his belt. “Have you been following us, Aspen?”

The girl’s easy smile faltered momentarily. “No! Why would you think that?”

“Well you just _happened_ to drop down on us the second I was about to kick Simon’s arse!” Tommy cried. “You stole _my kill_.”

“Okay. For one, they are _Bandits_ , not ninjas. Ninjas don’t exist.” Aspen sighed and stood up, wiping the blood from her dagger onto her trousers before slipping it into a sheath. “Secondly, _‘Simon’_ was about to kick _your_ arse, and Tubbo reacted too late. I had to step in.”

Tommy scoffed. “Drop in, more like.”

“Where’d you come from, anyways?” Tubbo asked. “Were you following us in the trees?”

“I guess so,” she nodded in shame. “I just wanted to hang out with you guys!”

“Okay. Now shoo.” Tommy sheathed his sword, not bothering to wipe off the blood beforehand, and stalked past the girl. He didn’t want to be around the girl any longer than he needed to.

Aspen spun around and grabbed his wrist, turning him back to face her pleading eyes. “Please, Tommy. I’m bored and I want to be around you—” She watched Tommy’s eyes slip past her and land on Tubbo behind her. Whipping her head around to face the peasant boy for a brief moment, she corrected herself; “—you both! I want to hang out with you both!”

Tommy raised his eyebrows and pulled his wrist from Aspen’s grip, turning to leave. “Go home, Aspen.”

“But—”

Tommy spun on his heel to face Aspen again with a scowl. “If you want to hang out with me, you have to include Tubbo. But, you’re clearly not interested in his company,” he spoke sternly. “Go _home_.”

Tommy turned and stalked away, leaving Aspen to stand alone amidst the numerous bodies of bandits. Tubbo walked up from behind and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he offered her a smile which she did not reciprocate, and followed Tommy down the path towards the waterfall.

As he rounded a bush - out of the sight of the girl - Tubbo sent Tommy a frown. “You didn’t have to be so crude.”

“What do you _mean_ , Tubbo?” Tommy exasperated, waving his arms about wildly. “She was only interested in _my_ company. We’re a duo. You either get both of us, or neither. I won’t tolerate a nobleman’s daughter discrediting your honour.”

Tubbo couldn’t help but feel warm from his words, such things were rarely spoken of by Tommy. Despite Tommy’s kind words, Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “I am perfectly able in defending my own honour, Tommy. There is little to care for.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tommy chuckled, a light smile played on his lips until he spotted a gash on Tubbo’s shoulder. “Tubbo! You got caught by one of those bastards,” he cried and stepped forward to touch the wound, but he retracted his hand. “I need to take you to Percy.”

“What did I _just_ say about being able to look after myself?” Tubbo rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, I’m barely…” He glanced at the bloody wound on his left shoulder, and a surge of pain suddenly coursed through his body, “…bleeding. Oh.”

Tommy sighed, and grabbed Tubbo’s collar to drag him back through the discarded bodies and up the path they had run down earlier, their plans to visit the waterfall long forgotten. Aspen was nowhere to be seen.

“I could do with some tending to, as well,” Tommy admitted, pushing tree branches out of their way. “The fool that dressed my hand after the blood oath did a poor job.” He lifted his bandaged palm up to show Tubbo, as if he didn’t believe him. Blood had seeped through the messy bandages and dressing.

Tubbo grunted in acknowledgment. “I suppose the _light exercise_ we endured didn't aid the healing process?”

Tommy chuckled at the joke. “No, I just think the Knights are fucking useless at everything except anything that involves harming someone else.” 

It took Tommy fifteen minutes to drag Tubbo all the way to Percy’s house. As usual, the smoke from his fire billowed from the chimney and the flowers bloomed brightly, despite it nearing winter. Bundles of hay lay by the doorstep, drying out in the sun before being stored away for the winter season. Percy appeared from the back of his hut with more hay bundles to lay out; his sleeves rolled up, a concentrated frown etched onto his face, and a few more wrinkles compared to the week before.

When he spotted the boys and Tubbo’s wound, he placed the bundles down and beckoned them inside. “I ‘spose it’s time for that medical lesson, aye?”

Tubbo sent him a sheepish grin.

—+—

A week later, Tommy stood at the edge of the training field by a wooden rack upon which hung weapons of all variety, ready to be grabbed and used in duels. It was late afternoon, the light of the day was quickly passing and he had spent the last few hours sparring with other students who had also been accepted into the Academy. Waves of exhaustion wracked through his limbs as he wrapped his hands with bandages - his right palm was still incredibly sore, but Percy had given Tommy a “special” ointment that numbed the pain and stopped the spread of infection. 

Tearing off the excess bandage and chucking it onto the wooden rack, Tommy picked up his battered shield and satchel, and began to make his way off the field. He was looking forward to a nice wash and to sleep for the next twelve hours - if Ms Pollard didn’t wake him up in the early hours of the morning, _again_.

“Hey! Tommy! Wait— wait up!”

Tommy ignored the call, pulling his slipping satchel back onto his shoulder and silently willing for the person to _piss off_. 

“Tommy! I need to talk to you!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Tommy muttered, coming to a halt. He tilted his neck back, eyes closed, and let out a deep sigh before turning on his heel to face his pursuer with an unfaltering grin. “Aspen, is that you? How _lovely_ to see you!”

Aspen jogged up to Tommy, the clanging of her armour pierced Tommy’s ears. Pulling her helmet from her head, she shook out her hair and returned the grin, not noticing Tommy’s forced tone. “Good to see you too, Toms—” Tommy cringed at the nickname, “—you were great out there today! Shame we never got the chance to duel each other.”

Tommy laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah… a shame…” he drawled out. Aspen was smiling so brightly that Tommy thought he was going to become blind. He coughed, interrupting the brief silence. “Anyways… I gotta—” Tommy pointed over his shoulder, stepping back slightly. “Yeah I gotta go back home. Duty calls, you know?”

Aspen snapped out of her daze, blinking at Tommy. “Oh! Sure! Hey, let me walk you? I want to speak to you about something.”

Tommy stared at her. Why couldn’t have she just asked right then, instead of staring like a creep? 

He forced a smile. “Sure!” He said - almost _too_ enthusiastically - and turned on his heel, hoping that the faster he walked, the faster he would be home.

He marched up the cobblestone path that led into the village, Aspen easily matched his strides with a slight bounce. “So, have you mentioned those bandits to the King yet?”

Tommy eyed the girl. “No. He’s been busy this past week.”

“Well I think you should because they’re dodgy types, their only interest is profit and gain. They were also on Kingdom grounds - uninvited, might I add - which is a breach of our security, unless they _were_ actually invited onto the land…” Aspen gushed, readjusting the iron helmet on her hip. “Ooh— what if they were invited? How _scandalous_! I wonder who’s brave enough to deal with the devils and—”

Tommy’s arm cut across Aspen, interrupting her train of ramblings. “Once I get the chance to talk to the King, I will mention last week’s events,” he spoke firmly, his eyebrows furrowed. “You will not speak of the topic again, nor will you create any more stupid conspiracies. Am I understood?”

Aspen chuckled nervously, tucking a loose tuft of hair behind her ear. “But Tommy, my father is in the council. Surely we can—”

“ _Am I understood, Aspen_?”

The girl’s eye twitched, a wavering smile emerged onto her face. “Understood, Your Highness.”

“Good,” Tommy nodded. “I’m exhausted so I’m going home, okay?”

“Oh! Okay!” Aspen replied apprehensively. “Well, mother wanted me to pick up a loaf of bread so I’m gonna go to the bakery.” She nodded her head in the direction of the crowded main street. The market was close to closing, so the shopkeepers were starting to pack up their stock. The village was usually quieter at this time, and stock would cost less than it would have done the same morning - not that Aspen needed a discount.

Tommy raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement and sent her a tight-lipped smile. “Cool. Bye.” He turned away from Aspen and continued up the path towards the castle gates.

Aspen waved after him. “I’ll see you at training tomorrow, yeah?” She called out, a hopeful look on her face.

Tommy didn’t reply, and Aspen’s arm stilled in the air, then dropped back down to her side.

—+—

Tommy pushed the boiled carrots around his plate while his parents ate in silence. The only noise that bounced from wall to wall was the scratching of his fork on his porcelain plate. 

The Queen placed down her cutlery and threaded her hands together over her plate. “Tommy, dear—”

“What are bandits?” Tommy questioned, breaking his staring contest with his carrots and glancing at his father. The King stilled, his hand stopped mid-air and a broccoli piece fell off his fork and landed on his plate with a _splat_ \- splashing gravy onto his greying beard. He shook his head, scooped the broccoli up again and shoved it into his mouth, ignoring his son’s question.

The Queen coughed, dragging Tommy’s attention from his father. “Bandits are—,” she faltered, swallowing thickly before frowning slightly. “Why are you asking about bandits, Tommy?”

Tommy looked back down at his plate, and stabbed the carrot that he was chasing around the plate earlier. “Well, last week Tubbo and I were in the forest past Percy’s hut,” he recited the memory, waving about his gravy-soaked carrot, sending the gravy onto the table around his plate. The Queen cringed at the sight, retracting her hands from the table and placing them on her robed lap. “—and we were just running, you know? As you do. Then these hooded people rolled out in front of us and just started attacking us for no reason? We managed to fight them off and then _Aspen_ dropped in to finish off _my job_. Tubbo got hurt but Percy patched him up afterwards.” 

The King stopped chewing and swallowed loudly, pointing his fork at Tommy. “Can always count on that girl. Aspen. Good soldier, resilient soul, excellent leader.”

“Also incredibly annoying, self-centered, and attention seeking,” Tommy muttered into his fork with a scowl.

“Excuse me?” The King frowned. Tommy ignored his question and popped the carrot into his mouth, chewing it loudly. 

“So,” he spoke through orange mush. “What are bandits?” He knew what they were, for Aspen had given him an earful about them. Still, he wanted to hear from his parents

“Never mind that,” the Queen spoke, eyeing the King. “Why were bandits in our Kingdom? And _why_ did they attack our son?” She pushed her plate away, and smiled gently at the maid who appeared to clear it away.

The King shrugged. “The kid’s fine. He can handle himself out there, been fighting since he was a tyke.” He sawed into his steak, and winced when the piercing squeak of cutlery pressing too hard on crockery echoed throughout the dining room. “We need to get better cutlery and crockery,” he muttered to himself.

The Queen scowled at her husband. “It doesn’t matter whether Tommy has been fighting since he was a child or not! He was still attacked, Matthew! That cannot be—”

The King’s cutlery clattered onto his plate, splashing gravy across the table. “I do not care!” He shouted, saliva spraying the table before him. He gestured angrily to Tommy, who was still munching on his carrots. “He is still alive, is he not? By the Gods, I know that the boy can defend himself until his final breath— if anything, it’s good practice!”

Tommy nodded smugly, concealing a smile from his mother and finishing off the rest of his carrots.

The Queen pointed a slender finger at the King. “That does not excuse the fact that there are bandits on our land - _uninvited_!” She cried, her misty blue eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “You are to deal with this issue at once, before anybody else comes to any harm!”

Waving a dismissive hand, the King grunted in acknowledgement as he swallowed his last piece of steak. He stood up, the wooden chair groaned across the concrete floor as he pushed it back, and pointed at the nearest maid. “You,” he redirected his pointed hand to his empty plate. “Clean.”

“Yes, Sire. Right away, my Lord,” the black-haired maid scurried up to the table to clear away the mess. Tommy scowled at his father’s retreating figure before facing the maid with a gentle smile. 

“Hey, don’t worry about those! We’ve got them.”

The girl dropped the plate onto the table in shock, splashing even more gravy across the table. “Oh, Gods! I am so sorry, sir,” she cried, reaching for a rag in her apron pocket to clean up the mess.

Tommy chuckled. “No, seriously! It’s okay, take the evening off. We can handle a few plates, can’t we, mother?” He glanced at his mother with a grin. She was staring at Tommy, her thin eyebrows raised in shock and her lips trembled slightly. She blinked, and cleared her throat, turning to face the maid with a small smile.

“You are dismissed to your quarters, have a good evening.”

The maid bowed her head at Tommy, and then the Queen. “Thank you, my Lady. Have a pleasant night,” she smiled before turning to leave the room.

A moment of silence passed between the Queen and the Prince before the elder’s gaze landed on her child. 

She smiled.

Tommy was going to be the most magnificent King.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter woooo poggers!! and we've met a new character: aspen!  
> this character is based on my sister, she wanted to be in the story so i created a character for her!
> 
> we also get to see the different sides to tommy's character in this one! i personally find the slips super interesting even though i'm the one writing xD
> 
> also i'm sorry for the slow update - college and writer's block has been kicking my arse lately but i managed to scrape up some motivation from somewhere lol
> 
> nonetheless, i truly hope you enjoyed the chapter! as always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :] they make my day <3


	3. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy was fifteen when Aria went to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Pv1gyggz6RJANd5lyGQKg)
> 
> songs for this section:
> 
> [castle - halsey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rfSHisyHdc)
> 
> [a sadness runs through him - the hoosiers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQUPwJ7JsjA)
> 
> **warning for this chapter: there are references to genocide, but it does not go into detail.**

It had started with random assassinations in the neighbouring kingdom: Siagora. Their houses were raided by bandits, they would be tied up and forced to watch helplessly as their home was ransacked of their goods, before their throat was slit in cold blood. The citizens of Aria grew panicked; would their kingdom be targeted next? Would they become victims to the merciless murders and robberies? Was anyone _actually_ safe? 

The King had reassured his citizens that they were perfectly safe- that he was doing everything in his power to protect his land and his people, to bring prosperity into their kingdom. And thus, the people were put at ease. 

Tommy, on the other hand, was not.

“Tubbo, I’ve got a bad feeling about it all,” Tommy had said to Tubbo one morning whilst helping him muck out the Queen’s horses. Tubbo told Tommy not to help him in fear of having his pay docked, for he had his mother and sister to care for at home. Tommy had argued, promising that he’d talk to his father about providing benefits for his family, and Tubbo reluctantly handed the prince a shovel. But Tommy soon got bored of the chore - which Tubbo had expected. 

The smaller boy stood up, wiping a ruddy hand across his forehead and sighed in exhaustion. “The King said that there’s nothing to worry about. I think you should trust him more, Tommy.”

“I do trust him,” Tommy replied, throwing a shovel full of horse muck into a tin bucket next to him, “Father just doesn’t tell me much so I don’t know what to think of it.”

“That’s understandable,” Tubbo hummed before bending back down to scrape up the half-eaten hay and fecal matter from the cobbled floor. “How about you speak to him about it?”

Tommy pondered for a moment, leaning his shovel against the fence and walking towards the black stallion that had been watching them for the past half-hour. It was the third time that Tommy had stopped mucking out to stroke the horse. 

One of the reasons why Tubbo had declined Tommy’s help, is because the boy didn’t really help.

“Yeah, I think I’ll speak to him tonight.”

“Let me know how it goes?”

“Of course, Tubbo,” Tommy smiled, running the back of his hand down the stallion’s snout. “Did I tell you that even Percy thinks it’s all a bit weird?”

Tubbo stopped mid-shovel, and looked up at Tommy’s back. “Really?”

Tommy turned to face him, still stroking the horse. He spoke quietly, “yeah, and you know it’s serious when _Percy_ has a bad feeling about it. That man and his family have been serving my family for years! And he’d-”

“-never go against the crown...” they whispered in unison, locking eyes and sharing the same shocked expression. 

Tubbo dropped his shovel with a _clang_ . “Never mind _tonight_ , we need to go speak to your father _now_ ,” and then he was running off through the cobbled streets. Tommy gave the horse one last pat, before following the smaller boy, slamming the gate shut behind him.

Soon the two boys were running through the palace halls, pushing past the guards and servants with Tubbo crying “Sorry! Oops— so sorry, ma’am- Coming through!” to anyone he passed. As they rounded the corner leading to the throne room, the doors at the end of the corridor groaned open. Tommy grabbed Tubbo’s wrist and pulled them behind the corner, slamming them against the polished stone.

“ _Oof_ — What the hell, Tommy?” 

The prince covered Tubbo’s mouth with his right hand. “I’m not supposed to be here, idiot,” he whispered, “I’m meant to be with Ms Pollard learning geography.” Unable to respond, Tubbo rolled his eyes.

“Shut up!”

Tubbo yanked the blond boy’s hand away from his mouth, “I didn’t say anything!”

_“Shush!”_

Tommy rolled over Tubbo towards the corner of the wall, keeping his body flat against the cobblestone wall. He cautiously leaned around the corner, and looked over his right shoulder towards the huge throne room doors. The guards manning the doors opened them - agonisingly slowly - and out strutted a dark hooded figure. 

The figure’s head was covered with a fern green hood that wrapped around their neck and chin. They wore a face covering made of the same coloured cloth - the only feature exposed were dull brown eyes. A brown belt was tautly fastened across the figure’s chest, looping from their right shoulder to under their left arm - on it was a small pouch with the outline of an eagle traced into it. The figure wore a tight-fitting brown leather tunic and bottoms, with a fern shawl draped over their right shoulder and looped around their waist before it cascaded down their front. They treaded lightly down the corridor, on their feet were thick steel-capped leather boots that had spikes sticking out the back of the boots. In their hand, they playfully swung a triple edged axe that was slightly larger than Tommy’s dinner plate — and that was quite big.

A shiver ran down the prince’s spine. _Well, shit._

Before the doors closed, Tommy spotted his father sitting on his polished golden throne with his mother perched on her own throne beside him. Looking away, he grabbed Tubbo to swap places, allowing the boy to see the hooded figure leaving the throne room. After a moment, Tubbo turned back to Tommy with a worried expression. “Tommy, that’s—”

Before he could finish, the young prince waltzed out into the corridor and sauntered towards the mysterious figure. Tubbo was frozen in disbelief and slapped his palm to his face. “What the fuck?” he muttered to himself, before following Tommy with feigned confidence.

“Hello, sir!” Tommy said cheerfully, “what are you doing in the palace on this mighty fine day?” 

The masked figure stopped in front of the prince, and stared at him in silence. 

Tommy shuffled uncomfortably, his bright smile faltered. “Uhh— you don't speak English? _Vous ne parlez Anglais_?”

Tubbo reached around to grab the blond’s wrist, an apologetic smile dawned on his face. “So sorry, sir. We’ll be leaving now.”

The figure didn’t move for a few seconds, but then brought up a gloved hand to pull down the fern mask covering their face to reveal a few long strands of brown hair, calculating brown eyes, freckled cheeks, and an unwavering smirk.

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “Ma’am…” he whispered.

Before they had realised, the figure had pulled her mask up and had brushed past them, making her way towards the palace entrance. On her back was a tracing of an axe and a sword crossed together in an ‘X’ shape. Tubbo looked back at Tommy in bewilderment. 

“Bandit.”

Shaking off the smaller boy’s grip, Tommy made a bee-line to the throne room doors when suddenly the guards stepped in. “Sorry, sir, but you can’t go in there,” the brown-haired guard spoke gently, his arm stretched out to shield the door.

Tommy snapped his head to face the guard. “Oh yeah? Fucking watch me.” He reached for the brass handles, but was stopped by the second guard.

“Seriously. We can’t let you in, my Lord.”

“ _Seriously,_ piss off!” With that, the seething prince exploded through the wooden doors, causing them to collide with the cobblestone walls on the other side with a _bang_ , and stalked up the strip of red carpet towards the royals. The guards that lined the perimeter of the room hovered their hands over their weapons, some even unsheathed their swords - unprepared for Tommy’s bursting entrance into the throne room. 

Despite being a lowly peasant boy; Tubbo followed Tommy into the room, a determined look set on his features and his grubby fists swung at his sides. The King and Queen were sitting comfortably on their glistening thrones, clothed in ruby robes lined with fox fur. Tubbo raised his eyebrows once he noticed some new articles of jewellery on the Queen’s hands and around her neck. _Where did they come from?_

With her eyes trained onto her son, the Queen lifted a delicate hand, calling for the guards to stand down. “Tommy, dear, you’re supposed to be with Ms Pollard,” her soft voice echoed throughout the room, before she scrunched her nose in disgust and brought a hand under her nose. “And _what_ is that smell?”

The blond ignored her; chest heaving, fists clenched by his sides. Instead he stared directly at the King, who was sitting rather comfortably on his marvellous throne with a passive look. The King met his son’s eyes, and lazily readjusted his robes. “Son,” he spoke softly. “You should not be here.”

Tommy scowled at the greying man and threw his left hand over his shoulder to point at the doors he’d just barged through. “Who the _fuck_ was that?”

The Queen gasped. “Tommy you are a _prince_! Act like one.”

“I won’t ask again,” Tommy spoke calmly, looking between the two royals. “ _Who_ was that?”

The King huffed. His son inheriting his own stubbornness should not have been a surprise for him, and it made dealing with Tommy a lot harder than anticipated. He glanced at his wife. Her lips settled to a grim line and she nodded solemnly - almost regretfully. Facing back to the prince, he spoke with power. 

“I have made the executive decision to make the most of our skills and resources by picking off the Dames and Earls of the Siagora Kingdom to gain wealth for our own Kingdom.”

Tommy scoffed. “ _Picking off_.” The King sent his son a short glare.

Tubbo stepped forward from Tommy’s side and into the light, bowing slightly to _at least_ show some respect. “Your Majesty,” he interrupted, “if I may?” The King lazily waved his hand, encouraging the boy to continue. “We have no quarrels with Siagora, Your Majesty. Why are we pursuing something that could end in bloodshed?”

“None of my men have died as of yet.”

“Because they’re bandits,” Tommy muttered, stepping forward towards the King and joining Tubbo. “Why are you working with _bandits_?” He challenged, swallowing deeply. The word felt vile on his tongue. He forced the bile back down his throat, not wanting to seem weak in front of the King.

The King broke eye contact with his son, and lifted up a wrinkly hand to inspect the new jewels that adorned his fingers. “They are surprisingly useful,” he mused, a small slimy smirk crawled its way onto his lips. 

Tubbo scowled at the King, crossing his arms over his chest. The raiding explains the new accessories.

“They have absolutely _no_ morals, _zero_ respect for anyone other than themselves or their sources, and _attacked_ Tubbo and I two years go!” Tommy spat at the King, his angry eyes trained on evey movement that he made. 

The King chuckled humorlessly and took a steady breath, dropping his hand onto his robes and staring into the prince’s eyes. “Sometimes, Son, you have to let things _go_.”

A beat of silence passed.

“I AM YOUR SON! I COULD HAVE DIED—”

Tubbo placed a gentle hand on the blond’s shoulder. “Tommy…”

“—HOW DARE YOU CAST MY LIFE TO THE SIDE LIKE THAT?” He continued to shout at his father, his throat burned with rage and strain. Taking a deep breath, Tommy lowered his voice. “How dare you have no quarrels with the kind that _attacked_ your hier? Your _son_? Don’t you have any heart?”

“Tommy, let’s go-”

“What about the innocent people being _murdered_ for you?” Tommy spat, pointing a shaking finger at the King. “You should be ashamed of yourself, _father_. Ashamed.”

Tubbo warily glanced around the room at the sound of swords being unsheathed from their holsters. He placed a steady hand on Tommy’s shoulder, keeping an eye on the closest guard. “ _Tommy_ , we need—”

“Look around! Look at the gold, the architecture, your robes,” Tommy wildly gestured around the throne room, ignoring Tubbo and the guards. “Don’t we have enough money already? Stop being greedy before you lose hundreds- no, _thousands_ of men at the expense of _your comfort_!”

The King blinked. “One day, you will not be a prince, son,” he spoke calmly, unfazed by the prince’s outburst. “You will be a King. And that is when you will understand that you must sacrifice for the benefit of your kingdom.”

Tommy scoffed. “Oh. I think I already understand, _Your Majesty_.”

And then Tubbo was dragging him away- away from the throne room- away from the palace- away from his father’s disappointed gaze. Tubbo led Tommy back through the palace gates, and over the cobblestone bridge that separates the Aranian town from the palace grounds. 

The town bustled with rhythm and the usual spring-time buzz of the farming sales - cattle, rams and ewes were being paraded down the main street by their hopeful sellers. Buyers looked on with interest, clutching pouches of money in their hands. Children ran through the legs of the townspeople, gleeful giggles erupting from their stomachs as they chased each other through the organised chaos, narrowly avoiding knocking over every other person they weaved past. Market keepers selling their spring produce - apricots, carrots, leeks, or potatoes - called out their sale pitches with forced enthusiasm, plastering on wide smiles to bide their customers in.

Tommy came to a stop and released a shaky breath, looking over the humble town. They were all so unaware.

“We’re going to war, Tubbo,” he paused, meeting the smaller boy’s gaze. “We’re going to war, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

A blonde head appeared next to Tommy. “War? What war?”

Tommy closed his eyes and titled his head down, forcing a sharp breath through his nose. For a brief moment, he really thought that this day couldn’t get any worse. “Hello, Aspen.”

Aspen stepped in front of the boys, a huge grin dawned on her face. “Hi, guys!” She chirped, making sure to acknowledge Tubbo. “Why did you say ‘war’, Toms?”

Tubbo snickered at the nickname. “Not yet persuaded her to ditch that one, _Toms_?” He whispered to Tommy, before grunting after receiving a sharp jab to the side in return. “Ouch.” 

Tommy ignored Tubbo’s grunts of pain, raising his eyebrows quizzically at the girl before him. “War? I never mentioned a _war_ ,” he smiled innocently, reaching to pat Aspen’s shoulder reassuringly, albeit awkwardly. “You must be hearing things.”

Aspen frowned, shoving Tommy’s hand off her shoulder. “Yeah, right. I’m not bloody deaf,” she deadpanned, narrowing her eyes at Tommy. “Fess up, or I force it out of you.”

“There is no war, _Aspen_.”

The girl moved quickly; knocking Tommy’s chin back with the palm of her hand, and reaching around to grab his right wrist to pull it up behind his back. With his wrist in her grip she forced him to spin around, and pinned him on the stone wall behind him.

“What the fuck—” Tommy lifted his head slightly to gauge his sudden change of surroundings, but Aspen grabbed a fistful of blonde curls and forced his head back against the wall, pulling his arm further up his back to cause Tommy to grunt in pain. 

“Spit it out, _Your Royal Highness_ ,” Aspen spoke sweetly, but her eyes held a ferocity that was only ever seen on the training fields.

“Tubbo, what the fuck are you doing?” Tommy grunted, his mouth quickly filling with dust and grit. “Do something— HELP ME!”

Tubbo shook his head and backed away. “Nope. There’s no way I’m getting involved in that. I am a mere bystander,” he glanced at Aspen looming over Tommy and gulped. “And I know what’s good for me.”

Tommy huffed and rolled his eyes (not that anyone could see), and wriggled his body a little bit; just to test the waters. Aspen responded to his movements by pushing him further into the wall - her grip on his wrist tightening. Unbeknownst to her, she had left Tommy’s legs open and unmonitored, giving him an out from where she had him pinned on the wall. He snickered to himself, his mouth quickly filling with even more dust which made him cough.

“What’s so funny, pretty boy?”

“You still have so much to learn, Aspen,” Tommy responded in a cocky manner. He jutted his right leg out, hooking it around Aspen’s and yanking it back towards him. Aspen’s hold on Tommy loosened as she struggled to regain her footing, giving Tommy the chance to break out of her grasps. When Tommy turned away from the wall, he found Aspen sitting in a heap on the floor and Tubbo hiding a chortle behind a hand.

“You’re such a dickhead,” Aspen hissed, sending Tommy a venomous scowl and picking herself up from the cobblestone floor. Upon being sent to the ground, her clothes had gotten a dusting of dirt and her hair had fallen from her loose braid.

“To be fair, you were the one who trapped him against a wall,” Tubbo pointed out. “Are you okay though?”

Aspen redirected her scowl towards Tubbo. “I’m fine.”

Tommy passed the scowling girl without giving her a second look. “Well, we’re going now,” he announced, clapping Tubbo on the back before turning to glare at Aspen. “No more snooping around in things you shouldn’t be snooping around in.”

Aspen crossed her arms and glared back at him. “I’ll just ask Father, since he’s on the council.”

Tubbo snorted as Tommy cocked an amused eyebrow. “Yeah? Good luck with that,” Tommy turned him and Tubbo around to head towards the market place, leaving Aspen to stand alone. He sent Tubbo a side glance and let out a chuckle.

“Like my _father_ is going to tell the fucking council.”

Tubbo guffawed at his comment, forcing Tommy to lead him through the town square since he was laughing so hard to be able to walk by himself.

They could both feel Aspen’s stare burning holes into their backs.

—+—

Soft hues of orange and pink flickered through the window adjacent to Percy’s food storage cupboard that snugly fit into the far right corner of his hut as you walked through the front door. The colours splashed over the hut floor, deliciously swirling and mixing together like a unique soup. 

Tommy watched the colours as they danced together, creating new shades and finding untouched areas in the warm hut to paint. He was perched on one of the rungs of the ladder that led up to Percy’s bed, absentmindedly sharpening kindling with one of his knives; the shavings tumbling to the cobbled floor below him. 

Tubbo was sitting opposite him at the wooden table in the centre of the hut, on a new bench that had appeared there after several days of Percy’s dedicated carpentry. He was working on a new trap idea that Percy had come up with, and was winding some string around a stick while Percy crafted a net across the same table. The fireplace crackled gently behind them, heating up a tin pot to be used for a vegetable stew later in the evening.

Since Tommy stormed into the throne room earlier in the week, he had been seeking refuge with Percy to stay out of the palace and away from his parents - not that his parents were doing anything, Tommy just didn’t like the awkward atmosphere.

Tommy glanced up from the swirling colours, his grubby hands coming to a stop, and settled his eyes on Tubbo; whose fingers were working methodically, but quickly, to tie the twine around the sticks with ease. Despite it being an easy task, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Tommy smiled at him. Tubbo had always been a perfectionist.

“What are you guys working on?”

Tubbo didn’t answer, he seemed far too set on finishing off his task before coming back down to Earth. Instead, Percy slowed his working fingers down to a steady pace and sent Tommy a quick glance. “Deer trap. Wanna help?”

Tommy scrunched his nose. “No thanks, Big P.”

“Are you even interested in what we’re doin’, Tommy?” Percy raised his eyebrows with a knowing smile. Tommy blinked at him.

“What else is out there? Like, other than bandits.”

“No, Percy,” Tubbo sighed, without looking away from his working hands. ‘Tommy just wanted to start a conversation to ask a question so he didn’t feel like he was annoying you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tubbo.”

Tubbo broke his gaze to send Tommy a sarcastic smile, shaking his head slightly for emphasis. Percy set down the half-finished net with an amused look in his eyes. “There’s other kinds out there if ya look for ‘em in the right places.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Tommy retorted, one eyebrow raised. He continued to fiddle with the knife and kindling in his clutches, letting his hands mindlessly shave off some wood from time to time. He had found the act very comforting in the past few months (he usually fiddled with anything he held) as it kept his hands occupied.

Percy sighed, and picked up his netting again to continue threading twine through the loopholes. “It means that there used to be a load of different creatures n’ species roamin’ these lands. Things ain’t the same anymore,” he glanced up to meet Tommy’s curious eyes before breaking the held gaze and looking back to the net. “You’d be lucky to find a cleric these days. They used to be very common.”

Tommy hauled himself from the ladder and made his way towards the table to sit next to Tubbo; opposite Percy. He landed on the bench with a _plonk_ , causing the bench to jolt upwards and to throw off Tubbo's concentrated hands. Tubbo sent him a deep scowl, but Tommy ignored him. 

“What’s a cleric?”

Percy hesitated at the question. “A cleric is—” he paused to swallow, giving himself a moment to think, “—a cleric is someone who specialises in medicine n’ healing. They’re typically mages so they can brew potions and such, but they can be non-mage too.”

Tubbo’s sticks and twine clattered to the table and he looked at Percy in astonishment. “There’s magic beings? No way, that’s so cool!” Tommy nodded his head in agreement, keeping his inquisitive eyes on Percy, waiting to be told more about magical creatures. They had never known of such beings existing in this world- sure, they’ve heard _stories_ \- but they were just that: stories. Everyone knows that unicorns don’t exist--

“Do unicorns exist?”

A blast of bellowing laughter tumbled from Percy’s mouth, brown eyes crinkling at the corners and cheeks lifting to showcase a large dimple underneath his scrawny beard. “Nah, Tommy,” he choked out, rubbing an eye with a grubby finger. “You won’t be findin’ any unicorns in these lands. Though there are other creatures of the like…” 

At this point, Tubbo had completely abandoned his previous task and his entire attention was cast onto the gardener. He joined Tommy by settling his chin upon a half-fisted hand and leant on the table separating the boys from Percy, his eyes held a deep interest for the outside world. Of course, Tommy understood this interest since Tubbo had always made it clear that his life and bounds were set beyond the Aranian Kingdom. The thought still made Tommy slightly upset; he didn’t want to lose Tubbo, no matter whether they’d stay in contact or not. 

Tommy pushed the thoughts to the side with a shudder, instead settling to focus on Percy’s vast knowledge of the world beyond his kingdom’s borders.

“Hybrids were very common back in the day- in fact, all magical creatures were,” Percy spoke solemnly. “Shame there’s not many of them around anymore.”

The boys both raised their eyebrows, prompting Percy to continue his ‘lesson’. He looked between them both and sighed. “Before yer father’s time, Tommy, the King- yer great-great-grandfather, I reckon- ordered a cullin’.” The comforting atmosphere in the hut suddenly turned stale; the sun had since set, leaving the hut in the dark - the only light source was the dying fire. Tubbo shivered.

“A genocide that killed hundreds of thousands of mages and other magical beasts and beins’. Luckily, some fella and his mates managed to stop the genocide by assassinatin’ the King, but the damage had already been done,” Percy recalled, a stoic expression settled on his features. “Thousands of families had been murdered, leavin’ a mere few alive. Those few managed to survive throughout the generations - battered n’ bruised by discrimination due to the genocide all those years ago - but alive nonetheless. But yer still won’t find many mages around here since they all scarpered off to new lands. ‘Fraid of a new King comin’ to kill ‘em off.” He picked up his net again, and began weaving a thread of twine through to secure it. “Don’t blame ‘em, honestly. I’d do the same,” he finished bitterly, his eyes may as well burn right through the twine threading between his fingers.

Tubbo reached out a tentative hand to Percy, but quickly retracted it back into his chest. “Are you okay, Percy?”

“‘Course I am, just get a tad frustrated sometimes about the whole thing,” he smiled reassuringly at the boys. “Just wish I was there to do somethin’, you know? But that can’t be helped.”

Tubbo nodded, fiddling with the twine looped around his fingers. A few moments of stale silence passed through the hut - perhaps a respectful silence for those murdered five generations ago? At least, Tubbo took it as that.

Tommy frowned at the table. “Why did I not know about that?”

Percy sighed. “Your father isn’t keen on it bein’ spread around, which is understandable considerin’ it taints the family name.”

“So, he would rather conceal history to protect his own name?” Tommy chuckled humorlessly. He rose from the bench, his knife clutched in hand. “Funny.”

He wandered towards the window next to the ladder, and watched the trees outside sway in the evening breeze. It was gentle. Tommy wondered what was going through his father’s head; concealing a significant piece of history that killed thousands, but then proceeding to kill for personal gain? It seemed awfully similar to him. He had the urge to do everything; but could do nothing.

Tubbo nodded his head at Percy. “Yeah that’s quite strange, considering the King is ordering the murders of Siagorian Earls and Countess’”

Percy dropped the net again, his eyes pierced into Tubbo’s with the most shock and discomfort Tubbo had seen the man muster. “That bastard!” He cried, the sound making Tommy turn away from the window in surprise. “When did yer find this out?”

Tubbo sent Percy a sheepish look. “A few days ago, but—”

“And yer didn’t think to tell me!”

“Well, no—”

“It’s not like we can do anything to stop him, Percy,” Tommy muttered, absentmindedly flipping his knives through his fingers with terrifying precision. “The man’s a stubborn and selfish bastard. We all know he’ll go to any length for even a crumb of personal gain.”

Percy was stumped, and he felt pathetic. His brain desperately worked to come up with some sort of _tangible_ plan, but nothing arose. He let out a forceful exhale, catching the attention of Tubbo’s worried eyes. They held eye contact for a few seconds, both silently telling the other that they were _scared_ , before breaking away and returning their attention to the respective tasks laid in front of them.

Tommy had turned back to the window. The moon had made an appearance; its full glow shining down onto the valley below, punishing the darkness for one night in all its glory. Somewhere outside, a fox screamed.

And, by chance, the three of them thought the same thing: What does this mean for Aria?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay LISTEN im sorry for such a long break in between chapters. i had to rewrite this whole chapter because it was actually quite bad LMAO
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are very poggers and appreciated <3


	4. Mercutio's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy was seventeen when pneumonia took Percy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Pv1gyggz6RJANd5lyGQKg)
> 
> songs for this chapter:  
> [one more light - linkin park](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kaUvGSLMew)
> 
> [castle of glass - linkin park](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ScNNfyq3d_w)

The war had been raging on for almost two years. Thousands of men, women, and children had their precious lives taken in sacrifice for the selfish King. The world had shifted; peace was torn to allow war, famine, and violence flow through the valleys of Aria and Siagora.

Tubbo had expressed surprise to Tommy that there hadn’t been a revolution yet, despite the displeasure and rage that had slowly enveloped the Kingdom of Aria over the two years, replacing the initial fear that came with war. It seemed that no one cared whether they died or not, for it was better than living in a constant state of famine and disease.

The King — although having already gained surplus amounts of goods — continued to send troops out to Siagora to make a proper effort in milking every last drop of wealth out of the neighbouring kingdom. Yet, no one was making any effort to stop him, as fear was cemented into the Aranian people after the execution of a well-respected Elder of Aria. 

Elder Hampson had tried to advise the King to halt the attacks and lootings; informing him that more violence will only encourage more disruption and discord. It came as a stark shock when the King held a public execution for Hampson to discourage others speaking against him.

No one left their household for three days afterward.

Tommy had been lucky when he challenged his father two years ago, and he knew he wouldn’t be so lucky in the future. However despite the King’s demands to keep Tommy inside the castle; the prince was in amongst the towns and villages of Aria as much as he could be, and offered help and food to those less fortunate than himself. If the King wouldn’t look after the people, Tommy would go the extra mile to make the effort to. It was his duty, and he wouldn’t abandon it to be confined within the castle walls.

Tubbo helped him whenever he could, but he had his own family to look after so he wasn’t around often. His mother was becoming less mobile as the months dragged by, and his 8-year-old sister couldn’t look after herself. Sometimes it would be days before Tubbo would make an appearance by Tommy’s side.

Tommy found himself missing him. 

He didn’t like that feeling. The feeling of dependence- of weakness- he had tried to shake it off. Tommy wanted to be strong by himself, but he found that crying alone in his room with the moonlight spilling through his torn curtains was becoming a lot easier than he would’ve liked.

It certainly didn’t help when Percy fell ill. Alas, Tommy had seen it coming, but it didn’t make his suffering or passing any easier.

The winter was harsh and even harsher to the gardener; he had fallen ill with a heavy cough in early December. The snow had fallen in hefty amounts during winter, and Percy had spent all his days out in the bitter temperatures to keep the garden tidy. Tommy had cursed his stubbornness and remaining loyalty to the throne despite the King’s decisions and actions to Percy’s face, demanding that the man went indoors and sat by the fire. Of course, Tommy’s pleads fell on deaf ears, and the gardener stayed out for several hours at a time.

Percy’s cough soon developed into something worse- something nasty- and he had become bed-ridden. Talking made him breathless, he barely ate, he sometimes coughed up blood, and he always slept. The once, jolly, and vibrant man had been struck with a sinister change in personality, and it was as if Percy was dead even before he died.

No medicine or miracle remedies improved Percy’s condition. Tommy had stayed by the gardener’s side as often as he could - even if the man was asleep for days. At the beginning of the illness; Tommy often found himself laughing by Percy’s bedside as he rambled out stories of his childhood and teenage years, but the laughing quickly died down over the weeks and, instead, took the form of quiet sniffling and foreign water drops sliding down cheeks.

Sometimes Tommy couldn’t bear to be in the gardener’s home; watching Percy writhe in agony and struggle to live another day was not something that Tommy had gotten used to and it pained him more than he cared to admit. He often found distraction- dare he say _comfort_ \- on the training fields, slashing, punching, barging other knights until they submitted in defeat. Each blow he dished out was teetering him that little bit closer to finding a way to release his pent up rage and grief; but when he thought the hollow pit in his stomach had left, the emotions and dread would come rushing back twice as hard as before. 

Tommy realised that Percy was everywhere, in everything he did. His scraggy red beard had found its way into the form of passing clouds, the echoes of his bellowing contagious laugh could _almost_ be heard whenever Tommy laughed, and, in some ways, Tommy saw Percy in Tubbo.

It was a peaceful evening in mid-January when Percy breathed his last straggling breath. He had opened his eyes one last time and Tommy saw an old barn door; flecks of deep brown intertwined with lighter hues, so much strength remaining despite the years of weathering, so much life still lived in his soul despite it all. Percy’s brown eyes were layers of comforting childhood memories, as sweet as chocolate and as solid as the oak: just like the man he was. Tommy decided that brown wasn’t as dull as he had previously thought.

Tommy rested his hand on Percy’s arm as he went. The sun set beyond the snow-covered moors; the golden light poured through the cabin windows and danced across the walls. It mocked the young prince, and he dared to curse the beauty of it all.

Tommy waited a few minutes, silently willing that Percy would breathe again. 

_Just breathe, please. Breathe._

Alas, his prayers fell short, and the man’s chest did not rise again. 

Tommy had stood in the cabin’s doorway, arms crossed, watching as the undertakers carried the body away on a stretcher. Tubbo appeared at his side and quietly offered a warm scone. Tommy took it without a word and tore it into two halves, before handing one half back to Tubbo. 

They ate in silence.

With one last glance inside the hut, Tommy closed the door behind them. “Come on, Tubbo,” he spoke clearly. “Let’s go.”

And they did.

—+—

“He told me about his brother, Tilly,” Tommy muttered to his black shire, eyes glazing over and lip trembling _ever-so-slightly_. “The brother he lost and never found again.”

The shire horse plodded on down the gravel path — her head nodding up and down with momentum — but she let out a sharp huff as if she was responding to him. In spite of his rotten mood, Tommy smiled gently and leant down onto Tilly’s neck with a sigh, letting her carry him down the dirt trail towards the cliff edge overlooking the valley.

“His family were clerics. That’s why he was always so worked up about the mage genocide; because some dickheads had attacked their home in Aria when he was a kid,” Tommy huffed, lightly running his hand up and down Tilly’s charcoal mane. “The discrimination stayed throughout the generations since the genocide, and people felt the need to attack innocent gardeners because of who they _were_. That’s so fucked up, Tills.”

It was February now, the snow had melted away but the frost lingered, everything was still dead and bare. Tommy thought it was ugly.

The funeral took place a couple weeks after Percy’s passing and almost everyone within a three mile radius of the Aranian castle was in attendance, reminding Tommy that Percy had touched so many people during his lifetime. The realisation gave him comfort.

The King nor the councilmen were present - they believed that war planning was more important. Tommy had a good mind to challenge his father’s decision, but he couldn’t find the energy to fight a battle that he would inevitably lose. 

_(Sometimes you have to let things go.)_

“I wonder if his brother is still alive?” Tommy muttered, the question was left hanging in the air. Tilly shuddered underneath him and let out another huff. Tommy sighed and wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Percy was lucky to escape the fire, and I’m sure he would’ve found his brother if he were still around.”

With Percy’s passing, Tommy had also found himself grieving for the family that the man lost when he was a child. Despite never knowing the family, he still felt a sense of loss and sadness at the thought of Percy never seeing his family again - he couldn’t even begin to wonder the pain Percy must have gone through.

Tilly continued to carry Tommy down the path that he had walked countless times before; the golden shine of the young sunset beat down on the both of them as they trundled along, their bodies brushing past bare branches stretching over the path. 

Tommy straightened up to gauge their surroundings; noticing that they had neared the cliff edge overhanging the valley below, he gently tugged on Tilly’s mane (he didn’t have the energy to put on her reins and saddle earlier). 

“Woah there, girl. Let’s not get too close to the edge,” Tommy spoke gently, easing Tilly to a halt. He jumped from her back, untying the rope from his shoulder and then attached Tilly to a nearby tree. “Don’t want you getting spooked and running off the edge,” he chuckled softly as he rounded the horse, placing a gentle palm on her snout and meeting her forehead with his own. Tilly huffed and pushed her head forwards, almost knocking Tommy backwards.

Tommy grinned, and reached around to grab the satchel still hanging around his body. “You stupid animal. Always know when I’ve got something for you,” he spoke softly, fishing a hand into the satchel and bringing out a carrot. He waved it around for a few moments with a smug smile, encouraging Tilly to let out a small whine. 

“I should at least teach you to sit,” Tommy teased, pointing the carrot at Tilly. “Other than carrying me around, you’re pretty useless since you can’t do any cool tricks.”

Tilly stared at Tommy before jutting her head forwards again, trying to grab the carrot from his clutches. He snorted before muttering a _“fine”_ , and tossed the bag of carrots onto the floor in front of her. 

“Sorry if there’s any rotten ones in there, you know how the food is these days,” he muttered, frowning slightly before turning around and flopping onto the grass beside Tilly.

They were stationed a few meters back from the rock overhanging the edge, but Tommy could still see the vast openness of the valley below. White fluffy clouds scattered across the sky, breaking up the various colours splashed across the atmosphere above; the top half of the sky remained a bright blue, then further down, where it stretched to meet the horizon, was painted in deep oranges and soft yellows. 

Tommy’s eyes flickered back to the rock on the cliff edge. He could almost see the outline of him and Tubbo sitting there, enjoying another sunset, perfectly content within each other’s company, before the world went to _shit_.

He sighed and leant back on his hands. “It’s pretty nice ain’t it, Tills?”

The horse snatched up a carrot and raised her head at Tommy’s voice, letting out a shallow huff.

“You’re a fucking horse. I’ve gone mad.”

He looked over the valley again; the nature was dead, and the sky was alive. Tommy felt like neither. His whole life he knew his place in this world, this kingdom, his _home_ . But now? Now it didn’t feel like home. It was riddled with violence and fear - something that he had grown accustomed to at an alarming rate - and yet, he could do nothing to influence its end. More than anything, Tommy wanted this war to end, but he had no idea _how_ he would encourage his stubbornly selfish father to cease fire. He was just existing with no role to play.

He always wanted to be like his father; a strong, independent, and trustworthy King. A protector of his people. Tommy now realised that his father was a fraud, and felt nothing but embarrassment to be Aria’s heir and the King’s son, but could do nothing to influence a positive change in the kingdom. 

He was a failure; a disappointment.

“I’m better than this, but there’s nothing I can do to make things better,” Tommy grumbled, clenching his fists and digging his fingers into the dirt. “Everything changed and I’m helpless.”

Tilly blinked at him, the black shine of her coat glistened in the light of the sunset. She nuzzled the empty satchel at her hooves before shaking her neck and body. Tommy’s lips settled into a grim line. “At least you’re a horse. You don’t have to worry about these things. Lucky bitch.”

Tommy picked himself up from the dirt and grabbed the satchel, tying it back around his body. “Come on, Tills,” he muttered, taking one last glance at the cliff edge. “I can’t stand to be here anymore.”

Tommy swiped a knife from a small sheath strapped to his thigh and cut through the rope to release Tilly from the tree. “Can’t even deal with a rock tied with some dumb memories,” he spat, slicing through the rope in one go. “How pathetic.”

Once the pair left the cliffside, it took everything within Tommy to stop himself from sprinting back to the edge and screaming with every emotion built up inside him. He convinced himself that it would attract the enemy, but he knew that he wouldn’t even be able to make a squeak.

Instead, the only thought swirling around Tommy’s head was a reminder of the truth. And no matter how much he attempted to beat it down with guilt, the thought prevailed.

_“This isn’t the life I’m meant to live.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mercutio’s interlude huh? if u know u know ;))
> 
> shorter today because Death. poor percy, im gonna miss him :(  
> also a lot of referencing to previous chapters hmmmmmmmm
> 
> anyways hope u enjoyed!! we're one step closer to the sbi making an appearance :eyes:
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! <3


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